Dollars (Dollar 2)

My breath caught as he strode into the room, nonchalant and unruffled in a black t-shirt and scuffed jeans.

Even in casual clothes, he reeked of power and money.

His dark eyes caught mine. “Time to go.”

Go?

Go where?

I had no idea where we were. Where we were sailing. Why. The only thing I’d been able to gather was I was on a ship. The gentle rock caused mild seasickness, but with no window to look out from, I couldn’t tell if we were close to land or in the middle of nowhere.

Elder stalked closer, his left hand in his pocket as if preventing himself from reaching for me. “Come.”

Beneath the covers, I scrunched up the dollar bill so he wouldn’t see and cocked my head. I could take the notepad and write a question. I could finally communicate and ask where he wanted me to go. But old habits were so damn hard to break.

A harsh sigh escaped his lips, answering me anyway. “You’re moving.”

My eyes flashed around the room I’d grown accustomed to. In this small, sterile space, I’d slept alone for the first time in so long. I’d been warm and comfortable, if not sore and healing. I didn’t sleep bound on the floor or collared at the foot of a bed.

This was heaven.

I hunched.

“You don’t want to go?” Elder raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather stay in the hospital wing?”

If it means I stay safe, then yes.

My chin rose defiantly.

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck, you push me.” Ripping off the sheet like he did yesterday, he muttered, “You can either walk, or I carry you. Your choice.”

I shot upright.

The thought of his arms around me again—protecting me while threatening me—was too much to deal with so soon.

I’ll walk.

My legs swung out of bed as I glowered.

He smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

What was his deal? He was so gruff, so pissed off—as if I’d done something to annoy him. It was his fault he felt that way. I didn’t ask him to come back for me.

You sort of did.

You begged him—remember? When he kissed you, you gave in. You willingly submitted for the first time…

I scoffed, shutting down those memories. I didn’t submit. I dove into pleasure I’d never had before. I gave in because I fully believed I was about to die and wanted to enjoy a splinter of normalcy between a man and a woman before I did.

What was so wrong with that?

Nothing. Just admit you liked him enough to kiss him back.

Never.

This man had intrigued me, but he’d extinguished any affection when he admitted I was his to do with as he pleased. He was just like the rest. He’d killed so easily. What was to prevent him from killing me once the novelty had worn off?

Taking my elbow, Elder helped me stand.

Air hissed through my nostrils as I struggled in his grip.

“Don’t fight me, Pim.” His features sharpened. “You won’t win.”

His fingers bit into painted bruises, reactivating the obedience Alrik had instilled in me.

I allowed him to help me out of bed, wincing as my warm toes met chilled tiles.

I wobbled a little, doing my best to stay standing. Elder didn’t let me go, but his touch turned gentle rather than commanding.

Dr. Michaels had removed my drip an hour or so ago, saying he’d give me real food once he knew the minor nausea I’d suffered wouldn’t make me throw up. He said stomach acid on my tongue’s wound would not be good for anyone.

I totally agreed.

I needed to be close to the doctor I felt marginally comfortable with. I didn’t want to move in with a man who made my heart gallop when it shouldn’t be galloping at all. Not in its current condition.

But he didn’t give me a choice.

“Come.” Dragging me forward, Elder’s grip once again changed from gentle to unyielding.

I shuffled forward, stiff as a plank and uncoordinated. Seeing as I tried to obey but struggled, Elder slowed.

Cupping my elbow, he took some of my weight. “Each step will get easier. Another few weeks and your body will be able to move without pain.”

I blinked at how wondrous that sounded.

To move without shin splints, throbbing knees, and radiating bruises. To be healthy enough to exercise and not just stumble in servitude. Even my swollen tongue couldn’t detract from that delicious promise.

I took another step.

A crooked smile danced on his lips, but he didn’t speak as he slowly guided me from the ward down a long corridor. He didn’t yank me forward but he did keep a firm pressure, giving me time but bending me to his will.

Together, we padded down the steel grey carpet with a white monogram of the same ghostly logo on the stationery I’d been given.

Damn, I left the notepad behind.

The pen too.

But not my dollar bill.

My fingers tightened, protecting my crimson-soaked secret.